


The Slow and Subtle Art of Drowning

by Cinaed



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mensa, F/M, Het, Hurt/Comfort, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-21
Updated: 2007-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the day of his death, Radek believed that one of the universe's greatest cosmic jokes was what he would come to Atlantis and fall in love with the city. The city in the middle of an ocean. The city which could fly. (Mensa 'verse)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Slow and Subtle Art of Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "Grace Under Pressure" and "McKay and Mrs. Miller."

_When Radek was seven, his father took the family to a lake. Decades later, Radek would remember very little about the trip--save for the last few minutes of it, which he could recall in painful detail. Beyond that, however, the rest of the day was just a handful of memories, mere flickers of sensation really, like how the sun felt caressing their upturned faces and freckling their bare shoulders, or the way he watched the strain ease from his parents’ faces as worldly cares were set aside for a few brief hours._

_Mostly, though, he remembered Eliška’s glare as he trailed after her along the edges of the lake, her mouth twisted into a hard, angry line whenever she turned and found him just a step behind her. At the ancient and extremely impatient age of eleven, she hated how Radek followed her around like some imprinted duckling, wanting to go everywhere she went, wanting to see everything she saw._

_Even after thirty-odd years, Eliška still went pale and miserable and refused to talk about that day, so Radek could only assume that she decided to teach him a lesson, one that would get him to stop following her around once and for all, because that was the only reason she would have dared him to climb to the top of the cliff that overlooked the lake._

_Radek had been quietly uneasy about heights even at the age of seven, never joining the other neighborhood children in climbing trees, and so when Eliška shot him a taunting little smile and marched towards the cliff, he nervously scrambled after her, forward and up that steep, rocky terrain._

_It was then that the memory became powerful, intense enough that Radek could recall each and every painful detail. He remembered how his heart felt lodged in his throat as Eliška kicked dust into his face, could sometimes still feel the gritty texture of the dirt under his fingers and the sharp stones beneath his bare feet if he concentrated hard enough._

_His head spun when they finally made it to the top and could peer out at that supposedly serene stretch of water. The quiet uneasiness stirred in his belly, coiling into a knot of almost-fear, because the cliff had not seemed half as high when he and Eliška were scaling it. Radek stared down, down, down towards the murky green lake, which suddenly didn’t quite so friendly, his toes curling and digging into the dirt of the cliff as though to get a stronger foothold._

_“Maybe we should go back down,” he said, the words turning vinegar-sour in his mouth at his sister’s taunting laugh, and to prove he wasn’t a baby, that he wasn’t scared, he stepped closer to the edge. “It’s just, we’re probably not allowed, and--” At another of his sister’s harsh, barking laughs, he swallowed, ignored the heart lodged at the back of his throat and the knot tight and hot in his belly, and stepped to the very edge. “See, I’m not a baby, I only--”_

_The edge of the cliff crumbled under his feet and he dropped like a stone, too shocked to make a sound as the water rushed up to meet him. It was his sister who shrieked, her piercing cries following him until he hit the water. If he dropped like a stone, then he sank like he was in a suit of armor, the murky green water swallowing him whole and dragging him swiftly down to the depths._

_To this day, he remembered how the water felt as it pressed down, filling his nose and mouth, remembered his feet hitting the bottom and kicking at the sand and silt there frantically as a tendril of something coarse attempted to curl around one ankle and keep him there, remembered the way his lungs burned and his mind screamed the words that his mouth couldn’t voice._

_If he sat and remembered long enough, he could still feel a ghost-memory, an ache in his shoulder from when his father’s thick, powerful fingers had grabbed his wrist and yanked him upwards, out of the grip of the weeds, still feel the cool air caress his face as he broke the surface and gasped for air._

_Radek had been quietly uneasy about heights before, but afterwards, afterwards he was terrified of both water and heights. Just the mere mention of the lake and he could feel terror wrap its fingers around his throat and squeeze. The terror stayed with him throughout the rest of his childhood. Even as an adult, with his fear easing to mostly manageable levels, he could still feel the thick water burning in his lungs and the sense-memory of the weeds wrapping around his ankles._

_To the day of his death, Radek believed that one of the universe’s greatest cosmic jokes was what he would come to Atlantis and fall in love with the city. The city in the middle of an ocean. The city which could fly._

*

“Are you going to be all right?”

Radek looked up, fought back the frown that wanted to twist his lips at the inquiry. He never should have told Rod about his mild anxiety when it came to heights. It had been in a moment of weakness, and he’d regretted it the second the admission escaped his lips. Sure enough, Rod had been his normal, overly helpful self ever since, offering to take all of the missions that involved using puddlejumpers, even going so far as to offer to test-fly all of them for him, as though by ‘mild anxiety’ Radek had actually meant ‘horrible, crippling fear.’

“Of course I am,” he said, raising an eyebrow and forcing his mouth into a bland smile that probably didn’t reach his eyes. “It is a simple test-flight, to make certain Jumper Six is back in working order.”

"Right, right, of course,” Rod said, smiling agreeably and going on as though Radek hadn’t actually spoken. “But you know, if you want, _I_ could go with Griffin instead--”

Radek resisted the urge to curse under his breath. Grumbling in his native tongue had lost much of its appeal the day that Rod had laughed and responded to an insult with a casual, ‘Actually, my parents _were_ married when I was born. And to each other no less.’ (Radek still wanted to know who had taught the man Czech. He had _much_ to say to that person.)

Rather than mutter to himself, he continued packing the equipment he would need for the flight. Without looking over at his fellow scientist, he said firmly, “I will be fine, Rod.”

“Right, right,” Rod said again, tone just as dismissive as before. “Though I was thinking, if you needed an extra pair of eyes, I could--”

“I already have four eyes, remember?” Radek remarked dryly, tapping on the rims of his glasses and earning a slow half-chuckle. “Rod, I can handle this _myself_. Just because I am a bit uneasy when it comes to heights does not mean I cannot take a jumper out for a test-flight. Please, let me do my job.”

“I know,” Rod said, this time sounding like he actually meant it a little, and that startled Radek into glancing over. Rod wore a rueful smile. “I was really just kind of hoping to get out of the city for a few hours. Get some fresh air. Relax.” 

Radek raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious, because Rod McKay never admitted he needed a break. He was like that rabbit in the battery commercial that went on and on…and on, only unlike that rabbit, Rod occasionally did fall asleep on his feet or in the labs from working too hard. So either Rod was somehow about to snap and no one had noticed, or he was trying to twist the situation and make it seem like Radek was doing _him_ a favor by letting him do the test-flight.

“You have a mission in two days,” he pointed out, and Rod shrugged, the rueful smile deepening into a look of almost boyish mischief.

“Not the same, and you know it.”

Radek stared at the other man for a long moment, taking in his earnest expression and hopeful blue eyes. At last, he sighed, fighting against the voice that whispered in the back of his head that defeat was inevitable when it came to arguing with Rod. He slid his glasses from his nose, scrubbed at his face. “I have already told Elizabeth that I am taking Jumper Six out.”

“Oh, I’ve already spoken to Elizabeth,” Rod said, waving a dismissive hand. “She said that if you didn’t mind, Sheppard and I could take the jumper out.”

Radek’s hand paused where it was pinching at the bridge of his nose, and he stared, irritation warring with confusion. “You and Sheppard? You just said you and Griffin--”

Rod shrugged. “Yes, well, Sheppard needs some fresh air too.”

“Of course he does,” Radek said sourly. He should have known, of course. Sheppard and Rod were as thick as thieves, practically joined at the hip. Why wouldn’t they leap at the chance to run off to the mainland with the excuse of test-flying the jumper? Resettling his glasses on his nose, he scowled. “Griffin and I will be test-flying Jumper Six today, Rod.”

For a barest flicker of a second, Rod’s amiable mask cracked, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of confusion and annoyance, his mouth pursing into a scowl, and then the moment was gone and his expression smoothed out into a good-natured look. “If you feel that’s best,” he said diplomatically. “Well, I’d best be heading off to the control room.”

The unsaid ‘In case you change your mind’ lingered in the air, along with the strong smell of leather as Rod smiled, gave Radek a pat on the shoulder, and strolled away with a casual, “_Mnoho štěsti_!”

Radek resisted the urge to glare after him. Someday, he would discover who had taught Rod Czech and hurt them. Slowly and painfully.

*

“So, let me ask you something,” Griffin said.

Radek glanced up from the panel, almost grateful for the distraction -- a quiet, frantic voice chanted a mantra along the lines of ‘I am in the air, oh God, I am way, way too high up in the air, where’s the ground, oh God’ in his head, a voice that had been whimpering ever since he first stepped into the jumper. Even his shoulders ached from barely withheld tension. “Yes?”

“As a scientist, does it bother you that most of your work, no matter how brilliant, will eventually be considered misguided? ‘Cause that would bother me.”

Radek blinked, felt himself frown, not certain whether to be amused or insulted by the query. “Excuse me?”

Griffin raised an eyebrow, an easy smile on his face. “Well, given enough time, everything is pretty much proven wrong, right?” When Radek just stared, uncomprehending, the pilot waved a hand. “Well, you know. Everything from the Earth being flat to the sun revolving around us.”

After a moment, he settled for being amused, one corner of his mouth lifting into a half-smile as he thought of what Sheppard’s expression would have been, had he been here for this conversation. “You do realize you’ve just told me my life’s work is pointless, yes?”

"Not pointless,” Griffin objected. “Just…misguided. A stepping stone to the right answer. Scientists get it wrong more times than they get it right.” He shrugged. “Take the tomato.”

"The tomato,” Radek repeated, incredulous, and made a mental note to suggest to Elizabeth that they have Heightmeyer check the relative sanity of the population, starting with Griffin.

That thought must have flickered across his face, because Griffin suddenly looked a little defiant. “Yeah, the tomato. After the conquest of Mexico in 1519, tomatoes were carried eastward to Europe, where they were believed to be poisonous.”

"I see,” Radek said, and the voice in the back of his head worried louder, muttering frantically about insane pilots who were going to get them killed. He licked his lips, anxiously eyeing the blue, blue sky beyond the windshield, and tried to ignore the unease that clenched his stomach. “Could you, ah, possibly concentrate more on flying?”

"I’ve got it covered,” Griffin said easily. “You worry about you.”

By all accounts, Griffin didn’t know Czech, and so Radek allowed himself to be particularly verbose in his mutterings about certain tomato-obsessed pilots who didn’t understand how dangerous flying was and who should have been history teachers instead. “This is the first flight the jumper has had since it was shot down and repaired. It deserves all of your attention, so please, I--” He couldn’t bring himself to look out the window at the endless stretch of ocean and sky anymore, and started towards the back of the ship.

He could almost hear Griffin’s shrug. “It made it to the mainland. If anything was going to go wrong, it would have gone wrong by now.” There was a pause, and then Griffin continued conversationally, “It took the Italians and the Spaniards to realize that tomatoes are, in fact, delicious.”

"How wonderful for them,” Radek deadpanned.

Griffin glanced over his shoulder and grinned a little, presumably at Radek’s sour expression. Continuing on as though Radek was actually interested in the topic, he said, “Columbus was Spanish--he figured out the Earth was round.”

"He was Italian.” The correction slipped out before Radek could bite the words back, a little sharper than he intended, but the muscles in his shoulders were wound too tight, so much so that the tension was spreading down his back and tightening up the muscles there.

Griffin didn’t seem phased at all; instead, his tone became pensive. “Huh. I wonder what it is that makes Spaniards so good at debunking bad science?”

"You will have to ask a Spaniard when we get back to Atlantis,” Radek said, hoping his tone conveyed how deeply he desired an end to this conversation. “I believe there is a new scientist, a, a biologist, if I remember correctly, who is from Madrid--”

The jumper lurched under his feet, and his stomach roiled, sweat breaking out on the back of his neck in a moment of sudden, startled terror. It took him a moment to catch his breath enough to demand, “What is it? Turbulence?” and stumble to the front of the jumper, collapsing into the co-pilot’s seat.

Griffin was frowning, brow knitted in concentration. “The inertial dampeners on this thing should smooth that out,” he muttered, almost to himself, and then a startled, “What the hell?” escaped his lips as the jumper shuddered once more, a convulsive jolt that rattled Radek’s heart from his chest and lodged it in his throat.

He peered at the screens, ignoring how his stomach was still churning and the fact that he felt like he was going to be violently ill. “Right drive pod's intermittently switching to reverse thrust,” he reported, and hoped that Griffin was too distracted to notice how his voice wobbled.

Griffin’s face was tight and drawn, and when he snapped out, “Cut it. I can drive with just the left pod,” his voice was so authoritative that Radek moved to obey his order before he even realized he was heaving himself out of his seat and stumbling over to one of the side panels.

He swore, soft and fervent, a second later, as the jumper trembled and bucked like a startled horse beneath his feet. “It is not recognizing any of my commands!”

"Brace for impact,” was the grim reply, and Radek made a sound that was supposed to be a “What?” but came out as a strangled noise instead. “We’re going down.”

"What? No, no, no,” Radek heard himself babbling, hands still leaping over the panel, looking for something, anything to get this jumper to stop.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday!” Griffin shouted, the urgent calls echoed by the terrified voice in Radek’s head that wailed ‘Falling, falling, falling’--

And then the jumper gave another violent shudder, one that sent Radek flying, and the last thing he heard was another of Griffin’s cries of, “Mayday!” before the floor of the jumper rushed up to meet him and everything went black.

*

_"Zelenka and Griffin, come in. Zelenka, Griffin, please respond. Jumper Six, come in,”_ someone muttered in his ear, low and urgent.

The voice dragged Radek slowly but surely out of the darkness of unconsciousness, returning his senses to him one by one. It was only then that he realized he was on the floor, its coolness permeating his jacket and chilling his back. Opening his eyes, he squinted at the ceiling, vaguely recalling Griffin’s order to brace for impact but not much after that.

His glasses were on the floor alongside him, luckily within arms length, though when he slid them back onto his nose he realized that they’d been bent during impact and now hung crookedly on his face.

_"Zelenka and Griffin, come in,”_ the voice repeated, and this time Radek recognized Rod’s voice. _“Zelenka, Griffin--”_

"W-we’re here,” Radek said. His temple throbbed, a dull, steady ache, and when he touched the spot, his fingers came away bloody.

_"Radek! Thank God!”_ Rod breathed out, and Radek tried to think of when he’d ever heard the other man sound so relieved. _“I thought you were-- We all thought you-- I've been trying to get a hold of you for over an hour.”_ 

An hour? Radek struggled to stand, biting back a sharp sound of pain when his head spun. The throbbing increased tenfold even as he swayed on his feet and made his way to Griffin, who was sprawled over the console. His hand fluttered uncertainly in the air for a moment, then he touched the back of the other man’s neck, the skin moist and cool beneath his fingertips. “Are, are you all right?”

Griffin was motionless under his touch for a long, terrifying second, and then he twitched and groaned, muttering a feeble, “Not so good.”

_"Are you both okay?”_

"No,” Radek said bitterly, struggling to help Griffin lean back in his chair, the man’s frame mostly dead-weight as the pilot groaned quietly under his breath. “No, we are definitely_not_ okay, not with possible concussions. What happened?”

_"The jumper you were flying dropped off our screens. It crashed into the ocean,”_ Rod informed him, and there was an odd gentleness to his voice that had Radek instinctively bristling and rolling his eyes. 

"Yes, of course, I understood that much, Rod, we--” He looked up, caught sight of the world beyond the windshield, and froze for a moment, the same terror from earlier tightening its grip on his throat. “We -- we are underwater.” His voice shook, despite his best intentions.

_"Yes, you are,”_ Rod said in the same gentle tone, and had he been here in the jumper, Radek would have glared at him for being condescending, for speaking to him like he was a terrified child-- well, he certainly would have glared while desperately trying not to vomit from sheer terror.

"How -- how will you find us? How _can_ you find us?”

_"We've determined the direction of your radio signal, but not the range.”_

Radek stared at the ocean just outside the windshield, swallowing hard even while he reached down to grab his computer tablet from where it had fallen to the floor. “How deep are we?” he asked, not certain if he really wanted to know, and then flinched as the H.U.D. suddenly flickered to life.

"One two zero zero and falling,” Griffin reported.

He resisted the urge to swear softly and fervently under his breath because there was no time, not now, for profanity. Later, later he would curse all he wished. “Rod, you will have to hurry it up. We are already twelve hundred feet deep and sinking at a rate of about, ah--” He paused, struggled to work through the math despite the pounding of his head. “--about twenty feet a minute.”

_"Impressive,”_ came the muttered response.

"Excuse me?” Radek snarled, because it was not impressive, it was fucking terrifying. “I know you must be pleased that your theory that the jumpers could be utilized as submersibles seems to be correct, but now is _not_ the time--”

_"I know, I know. Still, twelve hundred feet. That’s almost the maximum depth of a nuclear powered submarine. It’s--”_

"Right now, I couldn’t care less, Rod,” Radek said through gritted teeth. “My head hurts, and we are _sinking_, so if you would stop gloating and just--”

The H.U.D. flickered ominously, and then a loud splintering sound made Radek’s heart jackknife, flutter wildly in his chest, and he could only stare in horror as the H.U.D. died and a crack appeared at the top of the windshield, a crack which rapidly spread downwards.

"That’s a problem,” Griffin muttered beside him, and Radek reached down to help him out of the chair on pure instinct, listing sideways under the pilot’s weight when Griffin lurched to his feet, one arm slung around Radek’s shoulder for support.

"Can you move?” he asked, still listing a little to the side, unable to tear his gaze away from the ever-widening crack on the windshield, much like a man might stare at an oncoming train he had no hope of avoiding.

"Yeah,” Griffin assured him.

"Rod,” Radek said, and he no longer cared that his voice was almost shrill with fear, that he could in fact _taste_ the fear, thick and sour, in the back of his throat as he said, “Rod, the windshield is giving way under the pressure of the ocean.”

He and Griffin had just staggered into the rear compartment when Rod’s voice came, urgent but calm, over the communications link. _“Move into the rear compartment -- the seal should be able to hold.”_

"One step ahead of you, McKay,” Radek said, feeling a desperate, petty satisfaction at that, that for once _he_ had had an idea before Rod. He jabbed at the button that would close the bulkhead doors and keep them safe, and then stared in a mixture of incredulity and horror as the mechanism made a complaining, grinding noise and the doors refused to close. “No, no!”

He pushed the button again, and again, muttering, “_Ne, ne, ne, ne,_” in something akin to a whimper under his breath before he bolted to another panel, further back in the rear compartment.

"The crash probably damaged all sorts of systems,” Griffin said, but Radek couldn’t spare a glance for him, too busy clutching at the panel like a drowning man -- oh God, oh God, they were going to _drown_ -- and frantically pressing buttons, searching for one that would close the bulkhead doors.

“_Jezisi, prosím, prosím,_” he muttered, the panicked Czech spilling from his lips as he finally glanced over at Griffin and watched the other man press the button to shut the bulkhead doors as though maybe the sixth or seventh time was the charm. “It is no use, it is too _late_,” he said, and his voice cracked on the final word, because this was not how it was supposed to end, not from an accident during a simple test flight, not in a sinking jumper--

“I’ve got an idea,” Griffin said, and half-stumbled, half-ran back into the front section as Radek stared after him.

“What are you doing?”

Griffin turned a little at that, flashed him a grim half-smile. “Good luck, Radek.”

“Good l--” The words died on his lips as Griffin slid onto the pilot’s seat and the bulkhead doors began to close. Moving towards the front compartment on autopilot, eyes on the other man’s back rather than the ever-widening crack on the windshield, he snapped, “Griffin! What are you -- _Griffin_!”

The bulkhead doors closed just before Radek could get to them and he pounded on them with his free hand, ignoring the way the impact sent dull, throbbing pain shooting up his arm. “Griffin! Griff--” He heard the glass shatter, the sound like an explosion, and then water, all that water rushing into the front compartment, where Griffin--

Radek closed his eyes, pressed his forehead to the cool metal of the bulkhead doors, listened as the sound of rushing water quieted and a deadly silence fell.

“Why did you do that?” he whispered as the quiet stretched on, voice cracking halfway through. “Why did you _do_ that?” His throat felt raw, as though he’d been screaming for hours rather than a handful of minutes, and even his bones ached. At last, Radek took a step away from the bulkhead doors and rubbed wearily at his face, feeling the wet, terrible mixture of blood and tears against his skin and staring at his blood-smeared fingers for a long moment.

Then he closed his eyes and simply breathed. His stomach was twisted in knots, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, and he could feel ice-cold sweat on the back of his neck and the palm of his hands, hands which still shook violently. It took a long moment before Radek's breathing didn't catch in his throat, before the violent shaking of his hands eased to more manageable levels. Taking another deep breath, he squared his shoulders and activated his headset.

“McKay.” There was silence, and he waited for a one-two-three-four beat before he cleared his throat and tried again. “Rod? It’s Radek, come in please. Rod?” The silence deepened, darkened, wrapped tendrils of despair around his heart and squeezed anaconda-tight as Rod still didn’t respond.

"Rod?” he repeated, desperation coloring his voice now, and when there was still no reply, felt panic well even as common sense reared its ugly head. The radio transmitter was in the forward section, a section which was currently flooded with water. How was he supposed to contact the surface? 

The computer tablet he’d been using earlier was still tucked under one arm and he began to rummage around the compartment, using the feeble light of the tablet and squinting into the murky darkness. He couldn’t quite help the relieved sigh that escaped his lips when his hand closed around the familiar shape of a flashlight and immediately turned it on, blinking as the brighter light temporarily blinded him. One quick glance around the compartment revealed that there were more flashlights, and he arranged them around the compartment, thanking God and Marshall Sumner that the military commander had insisted on emergency kits even on test flights.

Putting plaster on his wound was painful and took a minute or two, a few mumbled curses escaping his lips as he put pressure on the cut, but it wouldn’t do for him to bleed -- albeit sluggishly -- to death while awaiting rescue.

The jumper gave a soft, almost unhappy groan, creaking dangerously, and Radek shivered, the same terror returning that had roiled his stomach and made sweat break out on the back of his neck. He couldn’t help but run the numbers through his mind. He was dropping twenty feet a minute, and pressure increased by one atmosphere every thirty-three feet, so that was an additional atmosphere every minute and a half. Which meant Radek was currently under thirty-seven atmospheres’ worth of pressure, and counting.

"I have to slow down,” he muttered, forcing his nerveless legs to move over to the other side of the compartment, where he activated an open panel of crystals. He probably shouldn't be talking aloud to himself, not when he was all alone in the jumper-- in the back of the jumper-- but it was almost comforting to hear a voice, even if it was only his own. “Just -- I need to stop sinking.” He touched one of the crystals, which was cool and smooth under his still-trembling fingers, and then paused. First, though, he should figure out a way to get the radio transmitter up and running. That way his rescuers could figure out where he was, after all, if he could not figure out a way to stop his descent.

At last, he spied the proper cable and attached the clip-end to a crystal on another panel. He attached the other end to his computer tablet, smiling in relief as the tablet flashed _JUMPER INTERFACE ACTIVATED_ at him. Giving his still-wobbly legs a rest, he sat and peered at the screen. “So, tell me, how is our radio transmitter?” he murmured.

_TRANSMITTER INACTIVE_, the tablet reported after a few taps to the screen.

"Yes, yes, I know that, so let us activate the emergency transmitter protocol, shall we?” Radek pressed the screen again and smiled at the _EMERGENCY TRANSMITTER ACTIVE_that appeared on the screen. So now the jumper was broadcasting a signal; all it needed to do was penetrate fourteen hundred feet of ocean--

\--Which meant that a grand total of three percent of the signal would reach the surface.

He tried to ignore the dismay that clenched his stomach at the dismal realization. All right, so he needed to boost the signal a bit. That shouldn't be too difficult. Frowning at the screen, though, a thought occurred to him. How much power did he actually have? 

_REMAINING POWER AT LEVEL OF USE: 3:05._

"Three hours,” Radek repeated flatly. “_Three hours_, and you expect me to-- What is eating my power?" He scowled at the tablet, skimmed the facts on the screen, and felt his scowl darken into a thunderous look. Why were the inertial dampeners activated?

Plugging in the command to shut down the inertial dampeners, he stared at the response of _ACTION NOT POSSIBLE AT THIS TIME_. “_Ne, ne_, I don’t need them! They are draining what little power I have left! Turn off!” He typed in the same command again and growled as the tablet beeped angrily, barely biting back a snarl of frustration as he typed the command one more time, daring the tablet to argue with him yet again.

_ACTION NOT POSSIBLE AT THIS TIME_, the tablet repeated once more, still beeping irritably.

It took every iota of control he could muster to keep from throwing the tablet across the room in frustration. His would-be rescuers would never be able to find him in three hours. By the time they found the jumper, he would be as dead as Griffin. The earlier despair was returning, wrapping tendrils around his heart and throat, and he couldn't help but mutter bleakly, “_Jezisi_, I am going to die.”

*

It seemed like hours before the sound of rushing water ebbed into silence, though Rod knew it had to have only been a few seconds. He waited for a moment for Radek's voice to come over the communication link, the other scientist cursing in Czech and snapping at Rod to get a rescue team down here--

But instead the silence stretched on, until Rod cleared his throat and said, "Radek?" There was no response. He kept his voice steady, expression calm, even as Sergeant Campbell's anxious gaze bore into him. "Zelenka, Griffin, come in please."

"Doctor McKay," Campbell began, but stopped at Rod's raised hand.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do, Sergeant," Rod said, ignoring the various scenarios running in the back of his head, the silent voice that was rattling off the statistics regarding Radek and Griffin's chances. "You're going to stay here in case Zelenka and Griffin get through to Atlantis, and let me know if they do. I'm going to get the rescue team ready." He caught Campbell's nod from the corner of his eye.

Then Rod was moving, tapping at the communication link. "Sheppard? We established momentary contact with Zelenka and Griffin, but I'm going to need you to figure out how to get them both into our rescue jumper once we've found them. I'll be with Bryce, figuring out where the jumper is." 

_"I'll get on it,"_ came the quick response, and Rod could picture Sheppard already on the move towards the jumper bay, mouth twisted downwards into a look of concentration._"Hey, sorry, have to end the game earl--"_ The connection cut off, Sheppard finally remembering to break the link. 

Rod tapped his radio again. "Bryce? I need you in Lab Two, immediately." He barely heard her acknowledgment; instead he focused on making his way towards Lab Two as quickly as possible. There was no time to waste, after all, not with the jumper sinking at twenty feet a minute. 

*

It wasn't until his hands started to feel stiff and unwieldy that Radek finally noticed the cold. Setting the tablet down in his lap, he rubbed his hands together briskly, trying to warm them, and frowned as a shiver racked his frame. Why was it so cold? Well, he _was_ under, oh, a billion or so gallons of freezing water. That could just possibly be the problem. Radek resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his own folly, and then clenched and unclenched his fists to force away the stiffness before he set the tablet aside.

He eyed the side of the jumper. “I need to heat this thing, unless you _wish_ me dead,” he informed it, and then set to work at removing the back of one of the bench seats. The needed panel revealed, Radek just looked at it for a moment, praying this wouldn't use up too much of his power even as another shiver rattled his frame. 

Disconnecting one end of a cable from a panel above his head, he knelt down and attached it to the panel behind the bench. A few quick commands on the tablet later, he could see the temperature rising on the heat indicator. He all but sighed in relief. Radek was not greedy; he merely wished not to freeze to death while Rod planned some daring rescue and made him look like an--

_REMAINING POWER AT LEVEL OF USE: 2:20,_ the tablet announced, interrupting his thoughts.

"Forty minutes?” he said weakly, and then glowered at the wall. “_Forty minutes_, you-- you--” He hauled himself upright. “So, I see what this is. You think that the captain should go down with his ship. Well, I am no captain, I am, I am just the navigator if I am anything, and the _navigator_ gets to escape the sinking ship, understand?” He glared down at the tablet and resisted the urge to smack it against the wall.

Still, breaking the tablet would only make matters worse, and so after a moment, Radek scowled at the tablet and contented himself with tapping forcefully on the screen. He couldn't help but smile a little in bitter triumph as the screen shifted and read, _REMAINING POWER AT LEVEL OF USE: 2:35_. The bitter angle of the smile increased as the number went up to 2:36 and then 2:37. It paused for a moment, as though listening to some drum roll only it could hear, and then settled on 2:39.

He let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, and gazed up at the jumper. Twenty minutes of power for just enough heat to stave off hypothermia? Radek had the feeling that someone-- an Ascended being, mostly likely-- was watching this entire scene, quietly laughing to him- or herself at Radek's predicament. He started to take in a deep breath and found himself taking in a shallow one instead. Only then was he aware that his lungs were straining to get enough oxygen, that something other than oxygen was bubbling up from his chest and tickling at the inside of his throat. It finally escaped his mouth as a loud laugh -- all right, a loud giggle, one that made him automatically frown, because Radek Zelenka did not _giggle_, not even from panic.

Still, he found himself giggling again, his mouth twitching upwards into an inane smile. Euphoria, elation, there was something that he vaguely recalled Simon talking about once, some medical condition, but the name escaped him. Still, at least he remembered the source of the condition and hunkered down next to the panel behind the bench, setting the tablet down and peering at the crystals and frowning. Where were the CO2 scrubbers? He had to dial them up before he-- before the CO2-- 

Another giggle escaped his lips with enough force to scrape his throat on its way out even as he began working on the panel. Radek giggled again, then struggled to get a hold of himself. He had to concentrate. He choked back another giggle, but the soft, hysterical sounds wrenched themselves from his throat even as he got back to work on the panel, his shoulders quivering with out-of-control laughter even as he searched for a way to dial up the scrubbers.

After a long moment, he sighed in relief and reached for the tablet. “CO2 scrubbers operating at -- at one hundred percent.” He couldn’t quite help the cynical snort that escaped his lips. Well, cynicism was better than hysteria, he supposed. “At least _something_ is.” He took a deep breath and began to type.

A new, loud sound filled his ears; it sunk into his very bones and made them ache with its intensity. The noise was a mixture of a groan and a wail, echoing through the jumper. It took Radek a moment to realize that the deep sound was coming from outside, and he ventured a tentative, “Hello?”

The wailing groan seemed to almost swell, though perhaps that was merely Radek’s imagination. He scrambled to his feet, listening intently and trying to ignore the ache in the hollow of his bones. There was definitely something out there, swimming near the jumper. This time, Radek kept quiet, listening for the sound again as his heart pounded and his head swam. What, was he going to be eaten by some monster the Ancients had created out of boredom?

The creature outside groaned again, louder, and this time the sound reminded Radek of whale songs -- Miko was always listening to nature music, and he remembered the eerie songs drifting from her headphones. But why was the whale-creature-- “Oh, of course. The transmitter!" This time he smiled when the whale-creature moaned, remembering Miko perched on the edge of her chair listening to the whales' haunting music. The smile slid from his mouth when the jumper began to shake, convulsing as though something had just sideswiped it. He grabbed onto the side panels to keep his balance, cursing under his breath.

“Look, I am sorry!” Radek shouted, doubting the whale-creature could even hear him, much less understand his words. “I am sorry if the noise, ah, bothers you, but, but I must leave the transmitter on, if I wish to survive!" The whale-creature groaned again, and Radek snapped, “Look, just swim away!” The whale-creature went silent even as a sudden idea struck Radek, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little, this time from relief rather than hysteria.

“Swim,” he murmured to himself, almost like a prayer. “Perhaps the jumper can _swim_.” He scurried over to the front of the compartment and put his hands against the bulkhead doors, resisting the urge to rest his head against it for just a moment. Time was of the essence, after all. “So, so, cockpit is inaccessible, but most of the control conduits run back here, so if you were really meant to be submersible--” Radek looked up at the ceiling, picked up the tablet, then pulled the cable out of the panel behind the bench. “If you were really meant to be submersible, then your drive pods should function underwater too."

Attaching the ends of the cable to crystals in a panel above his head, he felt like smiling for the first time since before entering the jumper. He could fly the jumper from this compartment, or at least get the jumper to the surface. Pulling up a few images up on the tablet’s screen, he grinned. “Now we are truly getting somewhere.”

*

"All right." Rod studied the faces of the scientists who were gathered in Lab Two. Bryce had asked for Donaldson, who had in turn brought along Kazimierz and Wysocki. All four scientists wore varying looks of worry and concentration, their expressions illuminated in the glow of the screen they'd been studying. "Since we know the direction which the initial radio signal came from--"

"Rod?" When he turned towards the door, he found himself gazing into Elizabeth's cool green eyes. She had on one of her tight-lipped smiles, the one that promised someone was about to get in trouble. When she spoke though, her voice was deceptively mild. "Would you care to explain why I didn't know about the rescue you're apparently planning until _Chuck_ told me?" 

Rod mentally grimaced. Technically, yes, he should have let Elizabeth know about the brief contact with Radek and Griffin, not to mention the fact that the windshield had shattered and the two men were now trapped in the rear compartment. Especially since she _was_ the head of the expedition. Still, Elizabeth would have had questions that Rod didn't have time to answer, that Rod _still_ didn't have time to answer. Ignoring the quiet voice in his head that muttered of wasting time, he instead forced a reassuring smile onto his face. "I'm sorry. I was getting the rescue organized and just, well, forgot."

"Forgot," she repeated, flatly, and anyone other than Rod might have cringed at the dangerous expression on her face. As it was, he tinged his smile of reassurance with sheepishness. Her dark expression was replaced by a half-exasperated, half-concerned look. "We'll talk about this later," she informed him, and then visibly squared her shoulders and prepared for news, good or bad. "Catch me up on the situation." 

The quiet voice in his head that muttered of wasting time got louder and Rod was hard-pressed to conceal a grimace. "We established brief contact with Radek and Griffin. Based on what they told us before losing contact, we're trying to figure out where they are so we can send a rescue team." Hoping she wouldn't ask for further details such as why Radek and Griffin lost contact once more, Rod nodded towards Bryce and Donaldson. "First we figure out where they are, then we send a jumper down for them." 

Bryce cleared her throat and, when Elizabeth looked at her, said in her crisp, matter-of-fact way, "I've been studying the Ancient database in regards to the ocean. Based on our study of ocean currents and the direction of the radio signal, we know they are in _this_ area." Pausing to change the image on the screen, she continued, "It's between two and six thousand feet deep." 

"Wait, six thousand?" Donaldson said, blanching. "We could never get that far, not even in a jumper!"

"Yes, I know," Rod said. He kept his voice even and calm, his expression confident, the picture of a man who knew they were going to figure out where Radek and Griffin were and rescue them. "That's why we're going to find them before they reach the ocean floor."

"They were already at twelve hundred feet and falling, what, twenty feet a minute?" Bryce asked, and Rod could feel Elizabeth's shocked and furious gaze on him. Oh yes, he was definitely in for an unpleasant conversation after this was all over. 

"Uh, yes," he said, forcing his expression and tone not to change. He didn't dare look at Elizabeth. "That's correct." 

After a moment, Bryce shrugged. "Well, it's a place to start." 

*

The words and numbers on the screen blurred together yet again, and Radek set down the tablet, cursing under his breath at the tiny keypad and attempting to convince his fingers to stop cramping. He didn’t want to take a break, didn’t have time to take one, but he needed to rest his eyes for a moment, just long enough for his vision to clear. He turned towards the panel on the other side of the compartment and squinted up at the crystals, sighing in frustration. “I need a new set of eyes.”

“Let me take a look,” a warm, familiar voice suggested behind him.

Radek froze. Swallowing hard, he didn’t dare glance over his shoulder, because he couldn't possibly have heard-- “Did I just, ah--”

“Yes, you did,” the voice said, in the same gentle tone that always made Radek bristle on pure instinct.

Slowly, he turned around. There was Rod, all smiling blue eyes and trademark leather jacket and slightly lopsided grin. He was casually leaning against the bulkhead doors, and as Radek stared, the other man looked back, the lopsided grin gaining strength.

“Rod.”

Rod’s expression was almost soft at the quietly exhaled name, his eyes bright and earnest. “Don’t worry, Radek. We’re going to get you out of here.”

Radek stared in a mixture of disbelief and astonishment, and finally gathered enough strength to move closer to Rod, even though his legs felt as wobbly as jelly. His heart was fluttering wildly in his chest, and it took him a moment to breathe out a hoarse, “How did you--? How -- how are you--?”

Rod’s mouth quirked into a gently amused grin. “It’s good to see you too, Radek.”

For a moment, Radek just continued to stare, drinking in that amused expression and relaxed slouch, and then he shook his head, once, sharply, and turned away as common sense pointed out that this couldn’t possibly be happening. “Wonderful. I have lost it. I have completely lost it. By the time anyone comes for me, I will be mad--”

“You haven’t lost it, Radek,” Rod said, sounding almost amused.

Radek ignored him, putting the tablet down and pointing at Rod without looking at him. He closed his eyes, fought back the rising hysteria, and muttered, “You are not real. You are not real. You are _not real_.” He put his hands over his eyes, took in a shallow breath.

Rod made a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Of course I’m not real.”

Radek looked at him at that, blinking at the man’s entertained smile. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m in Atlantis, trying to figure out how to rescue you,” Rod said patiently. “Of course I’m not actually here.” Pushing away from the bulkhead doors, he sauntered over to the bench across from Radek and sat down.

“I see,” Radek said slowly. Weren’t figments of your imagination supposed to try and convince you that they _were_ real? He narrowed his eyes. “Then what _are_ you doing here?”

Rod offered up one of those damnably casual, almost elegant one-shouldered shrugs of his. “You’re hallucinating.”

Radek crossed his arms against his chest, his lips curving in a bitter little smile. “Hallucinating? Why would I--”

The other man’s smile finally dimmed at that, and he grimaced a little before he silently pointed at his own forehead.

“Ah, yes, that would do it,” Radek mumbled, carefully touching the plaster over his wound and making a face as flecks of dried blood clung to his fingers. He brushed the flecks onto his pants. “Is it that bad?”

Another one-shouldered shrug, and then Rod said, “The way I see it, you’re scared. You’re a little panicked, you’re a lot lonely. You knew you could use some help, so your subconscious is manifesting--” He paused, mouth quirking into a smile of totally fake modesty. “--well, me.”

Radek snorted at that, felt his lips curl into a contemptuous sneer. “Oh, I don’t think so, McKay! If my subconscious was going to manifest someone, it would certainly not be_you_.” He rose to his feet, still sneering.

Rod’s eyebrows rose at that, and he looked torn between amusement and exasperation. “Well, apparently it _is_ me, Radek. Come on, you know I can help--”

“Of course I _know_ you can help!” Radek snapped, throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes. “You are Mister Fix-it, after all. You are always, always right, forever saving the day, always so _perfect_\--”

“Radek,” Rod interrupted, getting to his feet as well. “I know you harbor some sort of, of grudge against me, but really, I’m here to _help_ you, so if we could just get along--”

“You’ve been visiting Heightmeyer too often,” Radek remarked with a touch of bitterness. “Next, you will be telling that I need to set my ‘petty insecurities’ aside.”

Rod sighed, in the way he always did when he thought Radek was being unreasonable. “Look, why else would I be here?”

Radek glowered. Perhaps because he had actually died and gone to Hell without realizing it? “I don’t know!”

Another sigh, and then he said in the same gentle, condescending voice as before, “You’re essentially arguing with yourself. You realize that, right? Your mind is _creating_ me.”

Was it a bad sign that Radek dearly wished to hit the hallucination? Then again, the thought was slightly reassuring, in that it was a familiar sentiment. "If that is true, then I would like a new subconscious," he said dryly. "This one is obviously defective, because never in a million years would I want to hallucinate you. Laura, perhaps, but you? Never."

Rather than looking offended at the insult, Rod half-smiled. "You don't mean that."

Radek snorted but didn't bother arguing. Instead he picked up the tablet and took a few steps over to Rod, gesturing for the other man to sit with him on the bench. Hallucination or not, perhaps Rod would be some help in getting the jumper to the surface. Radek would just have to ignore the implications towards his mental health. He explained his plan quickly, tripping over his words both in his haste and because a headache was blossoming between his eyes, one that had him pausing to rub at the spot every few seconds.

Rod’s expression was unreadable as Radek finished with, “Now -- given I have a limited amount of time to execute my plan before power levels drop too low, but provided that ah, the, the coding is, ah, correct, we surface and at that point they should be able to pick up our regular radio signal and then come pick us -- me up.” He frowned and rubbed at his forehead once more, being careful not to touch the plaster.

There was silence for a long moment, during which Radek took the opportunity to take off his glasses and pinch at the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve some of the pressure. Then Rod cleared his throat. “How much power would that kill?”

Radek blinked at him. “Ah, I have no idea. Most of it?”

Rod’s neutral expression shifted at that and he frowned, shaking his head. It was the same slow, negative shake he used whenever he had bad news about the latest Ancient tech they were fiddling with, how it was actually useless or unsalvageable, the same slight frown he used when he was trying to figure out how to broach the topic. “It’s a bad idea, then,” he said at last.

Radek slid the glasses back on and scowled. Rod was usually not a naysayer. Of course, this _was_ hallucination-Rod. It would be just his luck that he would have to deal with a pessimistic version of the other scientist. “Excuse me? Why is it a bad idea?”

“Well, what if it doesn’t work?”

“Well,” Radek began to snap, and then paused. He hadn’t actually considered the implications of using up most of the power. “Well, then -- then I’m dead.”

Rod nodded. “Exactly. Bad plan.” He got to his feet, rolled his shoulders as though they were stiff from huddling over the tablet, which couldn’t be possible, seeing as he was a_hallucination_ who couldn’t feel a damn thing, and Radek felt irritation surge.

“Oh, you’re right,” he snapped, getting to his feet as well and flavoring each syllable with sarcasm. “I should proceed with one of the other _hundreds_ of possible options available to me.”

Rod sighed and shook his head. “Look, I’m not saying that I have a better idea--”

“Well, what do you want me to do? Nothing?”

“Yes.”

Radek tried to laugh at that, but it came out as more of a harsh, barking sound instead. “Oh, brilliant! How helpful, McKay.”

Rod folded his arms against his chest, expression earnest, almost imploring. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Look, just stay warm, stay breathing, and stay alive as long as you can -- give them the biggest window of opportunity possible.”

“Window of opportunity for what?”

“For rescuing you,” Rod said simply. The unsaid ‘Obviously’ hovered in the air.

Radek folded his arms against his chest, shaking his head and fighting back another bark of laughter. “Even if they could find me -- which, given underwater currents and multiple possible entry sites is next to impossible -- how are they going to get me out of here?”

“They’ll find a way.”

“First, I highly doubt that anyone will be able to even find me before the power levels are depleted and I run out of oxygen. Second, even if they do, how will they get me from one jumper to the other? This seems my day to die, McKay. Not even you could save me.” He paused, swallowed hard. He'd meant to say that last bit only to irritate Rod, not because he actually believed it, but the words held a ring of truth to them that made something in his chest clench with fear.

“Radek,” Rod said in the same gentle, condescending tone he’d used when he'd tried to bribe Radek to let him and Sheppard do the test flight. “Look, I hear what you’re saying and I'm telling you -- you’re wrong. You have some very smart, very motivated people on the surface, and the only thing any of them are working on right now is rescuing you.”

Radek snorted at that. “Oh, please, McKay! They are planning my memorial service.” He glanced down at the tablet, realized he was clutching at it so tightly that his knuckles were white, and barked out another laugh. “I’m certain you’ll think up a lovely eulogy. You did so well for Peter and Brendan--” He stopped at the dark flicker in Rod’s eyes, realizing he’d gone too far even if this was simply a hallucination standing before him.

For a moment, Rod’s jaw tensed, as though working against words that wanted to escape, and then he shook his head, expression smoothing into the familiar mask, and said in a low, sincere voice, “If your plan fails -- and it probably will -- you could jeopardize their plans, Radek. Just -- think about that. Be sensible.”

Radek loosened his death-grip on the tablet, relieving his aching knuckles, and scowled. Sensible? Because having a different opinion than Rod McKay meant you were being foolish, of course. Did the man honestly not realize how arrogant he sounded?

“Will you help me, or not?” he asked, soft, deliberate, and Rod sighed.

“I’ll help you stay alive as long as possible, but no -- I’m not helping you with this plan.”

Another laugh welled up at that, but this time Radek harshly repressed the urge. He settled for shaking his head and tossing out a bitter, “So my own hallucination is saying no to me?”

Rod stared at him, blue eyes solemn. “You must realize subconsciously that you need to be talked out of this.”

“_Jezisi_, I cannot even hallucinate right today,” Radek muttered under his breath, and then got to work, ignoring the concerned, frustrated look the hallucination was directing at him.

*

_"Rod? I'm heading over to you from the jumper bay. How are we doing?"_ Rod paused at Elizabeth's inquiry, Donaldson and Wysocki blinking at him as he let his half-finished sentence hang in the air. Their expressions shifted to ones of understanding as he tapped his headset and answered, "We're making progress, Elizabeth."

'Slowly,' a dark voice muttered in the back of his head.

_"Have you figured out the jumper's location?"_

"Uh, we've definitely figured out the area where the jumper is," Rod said, and ignored Bryce's raised eyebrow when he didn't elaborate that the area was in fact even larger than what he'd previously shown Elizabeth. "However, there is still the matter of getting Radek and Griffin from their damaged jumper to our rescue jump--"

_"John and Laura are figuring out a grapple system that will be able to raise the jumper,"_ Elizabeth said. 

The four scientists peered at Rod, their gazes sharpening with interest, and he quickly schooled his expression into a calm one and wondered what they'd seen in his face. "Really. A grapple system."

_"It'll be ready in a couple of hours. I'll need you to be,"_ Elizabeth informed him, a touch of frost creeping into her voice, and Rod was briefly distracted by pondering the future tongue-lashing he was going to receive after all this.

It wasn't until after he'd clapped his hands and reminded everyone to get back to work that he realized Elizabeth had said 'John _and Laura_.' He resisted the urge to frown. Why was Cadman involved? Okay, well, he knew _why_ she was involved-- Radek was in danger and she wasn't the type to sit idly by and fret. Still, he didn't see how Laura could help Sheppard. It wasn't like they needed to blow anything up.

He set those thoughts aside for the moment, in the box in his head where negative things, like uncharitable thoughts and contemplations of Elizabeth's future rebuke, were kept. If Laura could actually help rescue Radek and Griffin, Rod wouldn't, couldn't object. And besides, he had a downed jumper to locate, and only a few hours in which to do it.

 

  
  
  


  


  
*   


  


  
  
  


  


  


Ignoring his protesting knees, Radek knelt next to the bench and typed away at the tablet, his nose almost brushing the screen as he squinted painfully at the information he was scrolling through. If only his headache would go away. Oh, he'd found some aspirin in the emergency kits, of course, but then he hadn't been able to recall if one was allowed to take aspirin with a possible concussion, and so had been forced to set the aspirin aside, where it tempted him like a siren song.

Behind him, Rod inhaled sharply and made a quiet sound of disagreement.

Radek glanced at him, taking in the expression of ‘I saw something you missed, but I don’t want to burst your bubble’ that had formed on Rod’s face, the way those blue eyes slid away from his. “What is it?”

The expression shifted to a stubborn look. “I’m not helping you, remember?” Had it been anyone else, the tone would have been considered testy, but since this was _Rod_, it was merely matter-of-fact.

Radek looked down at the tablet and frowned. There didn’t seem to be any errors, but then again, possible concussion. After a moment, he snorted to himself. No, no, he was fine. Rod was merely trying to distract him, that was all. He resumed typing, ignoring the weight of Rod's gaze on the back of his neck. Well, he _attempted_ to ignore Rod's gaze, anyway, but it was like an itch he couldn't scratch or ignore.

After a moment he turned and demanded, “What? What did you see?” He forced himself upright, knees all but creaking in protest as he shoved the tablet under Rod’s nose. “Look, Rod -- if you, if you, if you saw something, just, just, tell me. Not that I believe I made a mistake, really, but I do have a possible concussion and with this headache--”

Rod still didn’t meet his eyes, in fact, stubbornly clenched his jaw and stayed silent, and after a moment Radek scowled darkly, annoyed at himself for even doubting his own calculations. “Do you really think you are fooling me? There’s nothing wrong with my calculations. You are just trying to distract me.”

Guileless blue eyes met his at that. “Sorry?”

Radek lowered the tablet, glared at the other man, all but snarled, “You are acting like a child, trying to slow me down!”

Rod frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t, don’t play mind games with me, Rod!” Heat bloomed in his cheeks, and he could feel himself start to tremble in suppressed aggravation at Rod’s innocent tone. He had always imagined Rod to be a good actor -- no one could be that pleasant _all the time_, after all -- but still, the audacity in trying to carry on the charade when Radek had figured it out--

“I _am_ a mind game,” Rod pointed out dryly, interrupting Radek’s furious thoughts.

Radek glared at him and said in a sharp, cold voice, “If you refuse to help me, then just stay on your side of the jumper,” before he turned back towards the bench. He had just begun to kneel down when jumper shuddered violently. He fell sideways, missing hitting his chin on the bench by mere millimeters, but the hard landing on the jumper’s floor knocked the wind from him nonetheless. After a moment, he lifted his head and stared at Rod, who had remained standing, apparently unaffected by the jumper’s convulsive shudder, damn him.

“What now?” he demanded, still a little breathless as he painfully got to his feet.

“Feels like we hit the bottom,” Rod said.

For a moment, Radek’s heart stopped, and then it resumed beating at a quick, irregular pace, pounding in his ears as he muttered, “Well, this is, this is good, then. The chances of us imploding are much smaller, after all, and, and--”

“Radek--”

He held up a hand, trying to think through the roaring in his ears and ignoring the expression of half-pity, half-concern on Rod’s face. “Don’t ‘Radek’ me, just this once. Can I not at least take a moment to enjoy the _one_ bit of good luck I’ve had all day?”

“This isn't good, Radek,” Rod persisted. “And you know it.”

“Stop,” Radek snapped, voice rising without his consent, rising and almost cracking. “Just, just, just -- just be quiet! You come in here, you do nothing to help me, you say the one plan I have is terrible, you -- you claim to be a creation of my mind and yet you continue to be completely and utterly _useless_!”

“Only because you won’t listen to me--” Rod stopped, sighed, and pointed. “Look.” He lowered his gaze to the floor and Radek followed suit, blinking stupidly at the water.

His vision went gray, and for a moment he could picture it, see how the water would fill the compartment until-- “It -- that’s always been there.” It took a moment for Radek to realize that those whispered words had come from his lips.

“No, it hasn’t,” Rod said grimly. “The impact with the ocean floor must have created a micro-fissure in the hull.”

Radek didn’t realize he’d taken a step back, and then another, until the back of his legs bumped against the bench. “We’re taking on water,” he said, almost in a daze, because he could still see the water rising over his head, could still see Rod helplessly watching him drown. He closed his eyes, but the images appeared on the back of his eyelids, and after a moment he swallowed back a lump of despair and muttered, “I wish I knew how to swim. Truly, I do.”

“Radek,” Rod said, voice soft, and Radek shook his head before the hallucination could say anything more, probably something meant to motivate him, galvanize him into action.

He squared his shoulders, ignoring the frantic, unsteady flutter of his heart in his chest. “Well, what is it they say? You are never too old to learn?” Radek was a little pleased when his voice merely wobbled and didn’t crack from terror. Staring down at the water that continued to gush into the compartment, he took a deep breath and then knelt down to begin his survey of the damage.

By the time he had examined the entire seam, the ice-cold water was up to his knees, and he was drenched clean to the bone and shivering so hard that his teeth chattered. He finally stood, brushing soaked strands away from his face, and grabbed his glasses from one of the benches before he walked over to where Rod stood at the rear of the ship.

Radek cleared his throat, waited for a moment until the worst of the shivering had subsided, and then said, attempting a conversational tone, “You know, I -- I was just actually-- I was just, you know, thinking what would complete this experience would be freezing cold sea water in the compartment, lots of it. After all, who would not find it highly ironic to die from drowning _inside_ a jumper when there a whole ocean outside the compartment?”

“You can fix this, Radek.”

He shook his head, the chill sinking into his bones and making him feel both heavy and unbelievably weary. “There are micro-fractures all along the seam,” he said, and some of his hopelessness must have shown on his face, because Rod’s expression shifted to one of grim determination.

“You still have fully functioning life support, right?”

Yes, of course, he did, because his fate had to be even more ironic, and so the life support would no doubt outlast _him_. “Yes,” Radek answered after a moment, voice hollow.

Rod spread his hands, nodding to himself, and Radek couldn’t help but notice bitterly that the hallucination was unaffected by the cold. Why couldn’t his subconscious remember that misery loved company? He shivered again, shaking so hard this time that his breath caught in his throat and he found himself almost surprised his bones didn’t just rattle right out of his skin. It took him a moment to realize that Rod had said something. “What?”

“Create a positive pressure environment,” Rod repeated patiently. “If you can increase the pressure inside the jumper, you should be able to slow the leaking.”

Radek stared for a moment. Yes, yes, that would slow the leaking but-- “We’d never be able to stop it,” he reminded the hallucination, shoulders slumping a little.

Rod shrugged and looked unperturbed at the bleak reminder. “I’m not saying that we could -- we’re just trying to buy time here.”

“In order to make death as long and as drawn-out as possible,” Radek muttered with more than a touch of bitterness, and now Rod rolled his eyes, something of his calm façade cracking to reveal a mixture of irritation and exasperation.

“Just max it out, Radek.”

“Fine, fine,” Radek muttered, snatching the tablet up from where it had been halfway floating on the bench and sitting down on the partially submerged bench. “Just give me a moment.” His hands were numb and clumsy, and he quietly cursed as he struggled with the tiny keyboard yet again.

“We should probably find a way to heat this water, too,” Rod said quietly, and when Radek glanced up at him he was standing next to the bench, eyes focused on the tablet’s screen, a pensive look on his face.

There was a familiar expression of determination and concentration on Rod’s face, one he always wore when he was trying do something undoable. The familiarity of the look made a lump form in Radek’s throat, and before he could really consider his words, he commented, “We make a good team, you and I.”

Rod looked at him at that, raised an eyebrow. “A good team,” he echoed, half-smiling, as though pleased by the compliment but doubting Radek’s sincerity.

“No, no, I mean it,” Radek said, and sighed. “Believe me, it would be much easier for me if we _didn’t_ work well together. I could retreat to one of the smaller labs, you could reign as king, and my life would be far, far easier.”

Rod shot him a sideways glance, his half-smile now a touch rueful. “You know, most people _enjoy_ working with me. It’s only you -- and well, Sheppard, but he complains about_everyone_, so he doesn’t really count -- who makes interacting with me seem like a trial and tribulation of some sort.”

“That is because it _is_ a tribulation,” Radek muttered.

“Excuse me?” Rod sounded very much like he was trying not to laugh, and failing horribly. “_Why_? I’m pleasant, supportive, fairly humble--”

The intensity of his anger took Radek by surprise, but before he could gather his wits, his mouth was already opening, letting lose a dark, frustrated exclamation of, “Yes, yes, and that is entirely the problem! You are _too_ pleasant, _too_ supportive, _too_ humble about your genius! You are not _real_!”

There was a beat of silence for a moment, and then Rod said mildly, “Well, I _am_ a figment of your imagination.”

Radek shot him a dark look at that. “You know perfectly well what I mean. You are too perfect. What are your flaws, McKay? I do not trust men who are always smiling, always kind. They are hiding something.”

“Maybe you should, oh, discuss this with the _real_ McKay,” Rod said, expression bland, hiding whatever he felt about being accused of keeping secrets. “For now, let’s stick to working on my idea.”

Radek scowled at him for a moment, and then finally shook his head, irritation ebbing to a familiar mixture of frustration and exasperation. "I suppose arguing with a hallucination_is_ a waste of oxygen." 

Rod made a quiet sound under his breath, a mixture of a laugh and a sigh. “Waste of oxygen, yes, not to mention _time_.”

“True,” Radek grudgingly admitted. “Well, here we go.” He tapped the tablet one more time, and then tried not to wince as the air began rushing into the compartment. Pinching his nose, taking a deep breath, Radek exhaled through his nose, trying to equalize the pressure in his ears. When the pressure finally eased, Radek let his hand drop, took in a deep breath, and then studied the screen of the tablet.

“Inbound leakage has been slowed,” he said after a moment, unable to keep from smiling in relief. Some of the tension that had been knotting his shoulders eased, and he added, “Good idea, Rod.”

Rod shot him that familiar lopsided smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Well, technically, it was your idea. I'm your subconscious, after all.”

“Oh, yes, right, but, ah, still.” When Rod kept looking at him, smile still going strong, he fidgeted a little under the look and added an awkward but heartfelt, “Thank you.” It was almost ridiculous how difficult it was to say that, even to a hallucination with Rod’s face, and Radek felt the urge to laugh at his own pettiness, because the leakage had been slowed, the water would not overwhelm him as quickly as before, and he might just survive this.

Before he could think about it too much, over-analyze the action, he walked over, reaching out to grasp Rod’s shoulders and squeeze them gently. He shouldn’t have been surprised at the warmth under his fingertips, the smoothness of Rod’s leather jacket against his skin -- since Rod was, after all, a hallucination -- but somehow he was startled anyway.

Rod blinked at him, an expression of bemusement on his face, and Radek supposed he couldn't blame him for being confused. After all, how many times had Rod given him a friendly pat on the back or supportive squeeze to the shoulder and earned himself a testy reminder that Radek did not appreciate having his personal space invaded? “Uh,” Rod said at last, still staring, and Radek resisted the urge to laugh at having rendered Rod speechless by initiating physical contact for the first time.

“Thank you, McKay,” he said again, and this time the gratitude didn’t scratch his throat.

Rod blinked slowly. “You’re, uh, welcome.” He looked puzzled for another moment, and then finally shook his head a little, raising an eyebrow and smiling. “Feeling especially grateful?”

It was Radek’s turn to blink, and then he realized that his hands were still on Rod’s shoulders, the leather smooth and warm beneath his fingertips. He let his hands drop to his sides, smiled crookedly. “Head injury, remember?”

“Right,” Rod agreed.

Picking the tablet up from where he'd set it down on the bench, Radek tapped the screen, feeling almost hopeful for the first time since the jumper had bucked like an anxious colt beneath him. "Now just excuse me while I work on getting myself out of this," he said absently as he glanced up at the overhead panel, trying to figure out how, exactly, he could do that.

“You’re not going to still try and control the jumper from that little thing, are you?” Rod sounded incredulous, and Radek didn’t bother looking over. He could easily picture the expression of disbelief on the other man’s face, the way Rod would be staring at him as though he’d suddenly grown two heads or sprouted wings.

“Yes, yes, I am,” he said, still looking at the panel. “And I have to do it quickly before power levels drop below fifty percent. So, that leaves me approximately--” He paused, glanced at his watch. “Approximately ten minutes.” There was a moment of silence, one in which Radek _knew_ Rod was gearing up to argue with him, and then he added, keeping his voice even, “If you are not going to help, then please stand back and keep quiet.”

“You need to stop this, Radek,” Rod said, low and earnest, and Radek rolled his eyes.

“Stop rescuing myself so you don’t have to pull off some daring rescue? I do not think so, McKay.”

“No, stop doing this just to spite me.” As Radek turned to stare, Rod lifted his chin in a defiant gesture and folded his arms against his chest. “Just look at what happened the_last_ time you did something out of spite.” He nodded towards the water that was still at Radek’s knees.

Radek snorted even as some of his earlier relief and warmth towards Rod was replaced by all-too-familiar annoyance. “I think I have finally found your flaw, Rod: hubris. Do you truly believe I am doing this simply because _you_ told me not to?”

“Yes,” Rod said, pointedly, and Radek scowled at him, anger returning the tension to his shoulders and knotting his stomach.

“Well, I am not. True, having you tell me not to and then immediately expect me to -- to roll over like the others makes me even more inclined to save myself, but still, I am doing this because I _know_ it’s the right thing to do.” He folded his arms against his chest and ignored the half-exasperated, half-concerned look Rod directed towards him. “Not merely because _you_ happened to argue _against_ my plan. You are not omnipotent, Rod, much as everyone else seems to think you are.”

“Roll over like the others?” Rod repeated, exasperation and a hint of confusion tingeing his words. “I’m not asking you to kiss my feet, Zelenka, I’m asking you to listen to _reason_. You're a scientist, so look at the facts! You’ll use up your power, give them even _less_ time to find you and--”

“Shut up!” It was probably a sure sign of madness that Radek wanted to punch the hallucination, to see if he’d be able to feel the give of flesh beneath his knuckles as he knocked some sense into the man, or at least broke his jaw so that Rod would _be quiet_. It was definitely a sure sign of madness when he actually moved forward and swung with all his might; Rod’s jaw was hard and real against his knuckles, and sharp pain blossomed even as Rod staggered sideways, head snapping back and eyes going wide.

The pain felt like fire, searing its way up his arm as he attempted to focus on the adrenaline surging through his veins and the way his stomach had unknotted a bit at the action. “Shut up,” he repeated, quieter. “I do not know if a hallucination can feel pain or discomfort, but I will hit you again if you do not let me work.” He tried not to stare at his hand, at the bump that made him almost a hundred percent certain he'd broken something as he turned back to the tablet.

There was a moment of silence before Rod spoke. "You _hit_ me." The statement was said in a tone of abject disbelief, and when Radek turned to raise an eyebrow towards the hallucination, Rod's expression matched his tone, his eyes wide and shocked. "You hit me," Rod said again, some of the disbelief shifting to an emotion Radek couldn't quite define.

"Yes, I did," Radek said. "Now will you leave me alone and let me work?"

Rod's expression changed at that, turned more intense, almost remote. It was an unfamiliar look on Rod's face, one that distracted Radek for a moment. Was this how Rod looked when he was actually, truly angry and not merely hiding his fury behind a bland smile and eyes that never really looked at you? Or was this merely the best Radek's imagination could come up with? When Rod spoke again, his voice was soft and Radek had to strain to hear him. "Radek, you are a smart man. You have to know that sometimes you must rely on others for help."

Radek just looked at him for a moment. Do nothing? It was true that Radek was not a man of action as many of his fellow explorers were, but he was not passive. Did Rod truly expect him to just sit here and wait to be rescued like some faint-hearted princess? "Perhaps," he said slowly. "But this is not one of those times."

"Yes, it is," Rod said, voice quiet but with steel underneath those three simple words. "Look, _I am your subconscious_, just-- just listen to yourself." When Radek moved to turn back to the tablet, Rod's voice sharpened, acquired a tone of thinly-veiled fury. "_Fine_. Just don't expect me to stay and watch your own stupid stubbornness cause your death."

"What do you mean by that--" But even as Radek glanced over at Rod, the hallucination flickered and vanished. "Rod?" He stared for a moment, disbelieving. Surely his own subconscious wouldn't desert him-- but apparently his subconscious would, because Rod did not reappear, even when Radek swallowed and repeated, "Rod?" 

Silence answered him, and after a moment, Radek looked down at the tablet. Just a few more minutes, and then his chance to save himself would be lost, _he_ would be lost, to the dark, deep waters and the same terrible death Griffin had faced. He didn't have time to worry about the fact that even his own subconscious had abandoned him. "I cannot just sit here and wait for my death, Rod," he whispered into the silence. "I _can't_."

Even as he tapped at the screen, though, his thoughts strayed to his uncle Damek with his low, passionate tirades against the Soviets, the way he would pace in their kitchen like a caged animal, and to his father, who would sit in silence during Damek's speeches and then brood for hours after Damek had left. Radek remembered Damek turning to his father one night, raising his voice and hands in appeal and crying out, "How can you just sit there and do nothing? How can you act like a coward and not be ashamed of yourself?" He remembered his father's response, soft but certain, "Sometimes, the hardest thing -- and the best thing -- to do is nothing at all."

"The hardest thing to do," Radek said aloud, partly to himself, partly to his father's ghost, partly to the hallucination in the back of his head, and smiled a small, ironic grin. He closed his eyes, focused on the tightness in his chest, the twisted knot that was his stomach, and exhaled slowly. "Very well."

He didn't open his eyes to see if the hallucination had reappeared. Instead, he just tightened his grip on the tablet and took another deep breath.

*

"All right, so do we have a plan?" Elizabeth said without preamble, before Rod could even sit down. Her voice was brisk and still contained that hint of frost which meant Rod was going to be in the doghouse even after Radek and Griffin were safe.

He paused for a moment, not certain whether to sit or stand. At last he assumed a confident smile and remained standing, busying his hands with setting up the computer. He could feel Elizabeth's penetrating gaze though, along with Sumner's, an imaginary pressure that lingered on his hands and face as he adjusted the computer so that the screen would face the group of four who watched him so intently. "We've narrowed it down to three miles of ocean. However--" Again, he hesitated, fumbling for the right words that wouldn't make Radek and Griffin seem doomed.

Sumner leaned forward, gaze intent on the computer screen, and remarked dryly, "_However_, from what I've been told of the situation, they're too deep. The grapple only has one thousand feet of cable, doesn't it?"

"Well, yes," Rod acknowledged, and pretended not to notice the way Laura's face went a shade paler and how Sheppard's frown deepened. "That's true, but we know the jumper should be able to dive at least a thousand, so if he's above two thousand, we should still be able to get him with the grapple."

"And if he -- they're deeper?" Laura asked sharply.

"He probably is," Sheppard said, and Laura's color grew still paler, hazel eyes wide and luminous. Then a contemplative expression flitted across Sheppard's face and he added, the words slow and thoughtful, "Rod, when the Wraith attacked the city, you and Radek were able to turn the shield into a cloak."

"Yes, but--" Something clicked in his head, and Rod snapped his fingers and nodded, wondering why _he_ hadn't thought of that. "Yes, yes, I see what you're-- we could do the opposite, turn the jumper's cloak into a shield. That would hold the water back." And take significantly more power, but Rod would cross that bridge when he came to it. They would just have to shut down all systems that weren't vital.

When he looked away from Sheppard though, Elizabeth and Sumner were both frowning and wearing doubtful looks, expressions Rod recognized all too well. They were the looks the colonel and Elizabeth wore whenever they suspected that Rod was being perhaps a shade too optimistic. "Wouldn't that take hours to reconfigure, Doctor?" Sumner asked. "As much as I want to rescue Captain Griffin and Doctor Zelenka, we have limited time here."

"Oh, Sheppard and I will take what we need, make the changes down there--"

Sheppard cleared his throat. "I'm not going, Rod."

Rod stared for a moment, blinking. He _had_ to have misheard because-- "But you're the best pilot we have! We--"

"Exactly," Sheppard said in that slow, unrelenting way of his, when he'd made up his mind and neither hell nor high water could budge him. "And we all know that changing the cloak into the shield will take up an enormous amount of energy. The rescue jumper might not make it back to the surface, and if _that_ happens, you're going to need me to do some pretty fancy footwork to keep you all from ending up on the bottom of the ocean."

"But--" Rod began, but Sumner and Elizabeth were already nodding in agreement. He resisted the urge to argue, to tell them that he needed Sheppard's skill with the jumper_now_, not have it be wasted on a second rescue that might not even happen. He bit back the argument that rose to his lips, forced the sentences into the box of negative things in the back of his head, since it was obvious that the argument would be three (perhaps four) against one and he'd just be wasting breath and precious time. "Fine." It took all his strength to have the word come out as accepting, rather than sharp and biting. "Who's going to pilot the jumper then?"

"I will."

"You?" A shade of incredulity colored Rod's voice, but he couldn't help it. Were they all seriously thinking that Cadman piloting the jumper was a _good_ plan? She was, all right, yes, she was an _excellent_ pilot, one of the best on Atlantis even, but ever since the unfortunate incident with the Wraith dart, they all knew she made him quietly uneasy, for reasons he couldn't quite explain. They _had_ to realize he didn't need this distraction. It was his turn to clear his throat, and when he spoke, his tone was understanding, conciliatory. "All right, yes, Lieutenant, you have the gene, but do you really think you won't, ah, let your emotions cloud your--"

He stopped at Laura's expression. Her face was still pale, but her eyes were like gimlets and her mouth was set in a determined frown. "Let emotions cloud my judgment, McKay?" She laughed, but it was a harsh, humorless sound. Folding her arms against her chest, she continued, "Very PC. Now let's cut the bullshit. You don't really like me. That's fine. I don't really care, but we're going to have to work together to rescue Radek, so you're going to have to suck it up and _deal_."

"I don't dislike you," Rod said quickly, and fought back the warmth that was probably turning his face pink. He didn't _dislike_ her, it was true, she just...made him uncomfortable. That was all. No more, no less. There was no hatred or dislike involved. Couldn't she see that? At her disbelieving snort, he glanced at the others, who all wore blank expressions. After a moment, he offered her a small smile. "Uh, well, that's a conversation for another time, I suppose. Now, just, ah, let me get my gear, and we'll go."

"Right," Laura smiled at him, all teeth, and Rod made certain to leave the room at a pace that suggested he was hurrying on Radek and Griffin's behalf, not because Laura terrified him.

*

"I did not think you would come back," Radek said, or at least attempted to say. His teeth kept chattering and it took far too much effort to work his sore jaw, to actually shape the words and force them past his numb lips. He attempted a sarcastic twist of his lips nonetheless, fairly certain the attempt failed miserably. "After all, my subconscious won, yes?"

"There's always a chance you might change your mind and try that stunt anyway," Rod said. _His_ teeth weren't chatting; in fact, the hallucination looked perfectly at ease, the leather jacket as dry as it would be if they were on the mainland, standing on the beach. He even had the audacity to smile, and if Radek's broken hand hadn't still been in agony, reminding him of what would happen if he punched Rod a second time, Radek would have attempted a halfhearted swing.

Radek snorted. "Too late for that. The ten minutes are up and the power levels are too low. Even if I wished, I couldn't attempt my plan." The water was up to his waist now, slowly creeping up to lap at his ribcage, and perhaps it was all in his imagination, but the water seemed to be actually getting colder, even though the tablet assured him that the command to heat the water was still working. "So, why are you really here?"

Rod shrugged, still smiling. "To keep you company, of course."

Radek rolled his eyes at that, but didn't protest. Mostly because it happened to be true; he was grateful for any distraction (even one that involved a conversation with a man who wasn't really there) that could keep away thoughts of what would happen if Rod and the others didn't rescue him in time. He cradled his injured hand against his chest, trying to keep it immobile, and once again wished he had paid more attention in the first-aid lecture Simon had forced everyone to attend before they could go off-world. Perhaps then he would know for certain whether or not he was allowed some aspirin to ease his headache and the pain of his broken hand.

There was a moment of silence, during which Radek's head and hand throbbed and his stomach roiled, and at last he sighed. Well, if Rod was truly here to keep him company.... "I almost drowned once before, you know," he said, and then half-laughed, a hoarse, sharp sound. "Well, of course _you_ know. My subconscious, after all." He looked up to find Rod watching him steadily. "I do not think Eliška has ever forgiven herself, for all that it's been over thirty years."

"If your roles had been reversed, would you have forgiven yourself?" Rod asked in the ensuing quiet.

"No," Radek admitted, suddenly exhausted. He let his eyes shut for a moment, the darkness not doing much to soothe the ache in his head or the sudden tightness in his chest. He couldn't help but wonder who would blame themselves for his death, if the rescue team arrived too late. Then he mentally snorted, because of course Rod would, chastising himself for not being quick enough, for not getting there in the nick of time like he usually did.

Then again, how long would the guilt truly last? There were too many past deaths, too many future deaths, too much blood and loss and grief for Radek's death to matter all that much in the long run. A few people would mourn for a while, and then they would move on. He would become just another name, someone they mentioned with a trace of wistfulness and regret from time to time, like Peter and Brendan and all the others who had died over the past year and a half. Perhaps Eliška would tell the occasional story and show the occasional photograph to little Marek of his uncle Radek. It was all he could hope for, really.

He opened his eyes, immediately regretting the action as his gaze blurred and the pain in his head spiked to near-unbearable levels. Swearing under his breath, Radek closed his eyes until the agony had eased somewhat; then he slowly reopened them to meet Rod's concerned gaze. This time, thankfully, the dim light of the compartment didn't hurt his eyes.

"I am _fine_," he said, when Rod kept looking at him.

Rod's concerned expression shifted to a skeptical look, but he didn't argue, just lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head as though waiting to see if Radek's nose would grow like Pinnochio's and betray him, reveal him for the liar he was.

Outside, the whale-creature moaned, the sound making the hair on the back of Radek's neck rise. Hadn't the creature figured out that perhaps moving _away_ from the transmitter and its distressing noise would do the trick? Well, he supposed he ought to be grateful that at least the whale-creature wasn't attacking the jumper. Picking up the tablet, Radek sighed and thought of the long, tense wait that stretched out in front of him, how each second would become an eternity as the clock ticked down to his death.

After a long moment, he rose to his feet. Darkness lurked at the corners of his vision, his head spinning a little and threatening him with unconsciousness, but after a moment he felt steady on his feet again and though the darkness still lingered, Radek did not think he would lose consciousness anytime soon. Feeling Rod's curious gaze on him, he began in a calm, reasonable tone, "Well, I may not be a, a man of action, but I am not going to sit here and just--"

"Radek--" Rod began, a warning note in his voice, expression shifting to one of disbelief and exasperation.

"--stare at the wall," Radek continued, blithely ignoring Rod's tone, and waved the tablet. "Let's see if we can figure out what went wrong with the jumper while we wait, yes? I did a thorough diagnostic before we left Atlantis, after all. The right drive pod should not have been switching to reverse thrust like that, and--"

"And the jumper should have recognized your commands," Rod interjected, looking thoughtful as he walked over to peer at the tablet. "You're right. I wonder why--" He frowned, a pensive expression darkening his features, and began, "Perhaps something on the mainland--"

Radek shook his head. "I was thinking that, but there was nothing unusual on the mainland, as far as I could see."

"Huh," Rod said, eyes narrowing. He bent over the tablet, and Radek followed suit, peering at the screen and half-smiling to himself when some of the lurking darkness receded and the tightness in his chest began to ease as Rod began to half-mutter and toss out theory after theory as to what could have caused the malfunction.

True, this was not _precisely_ "nothing at all," but Radek had never been good at doing nothing.

*

Rod gritted his teeth and avoided Laura's gaze, focusing on the tablet in his hand and sitting down in the co-pilot's seat. His calculations had to be absolutely correct, after all, or else they could miss the downed jumper by only a few miles. There could be no mistakes, not if Radek and Griffin were to make it out of this thing alive. "Okay, we're above the search coordinates," he said at last. "There shouldn't be a problem with the transition, so--"

"Right, right," Laura said, and Rod glanced up in time to see her roll her eyes. Then they were underwater, the world outside the jumper's windshield a shockingly greenish-blue that quickly turned a darker shade of blue as they continued their descent. After a few minutes, Laura turned on the radio and said, "Atlantis, this is Cadman. Come in, please."

The response, when it came, was faint and crackly, reminding Rod of the old radio he'd had as a kid, the one he'd taken apart one rainy afternoon to see if he could make it work better (he could and had, much to his parents' chagrin). It was also unmistakably Elizabeth's voice. _"Cadman? We can barely hear you."_

"We're going to lose you completely once we get deeper," Rod informed her. He shot a half-conspiratorial smile at Laura, one she didn't return even as he added brightly, "So now would be a good time to wish us luck." Even as the words fell from his lips, though, he thought of wishing Radek good luck earlier that day and the smile on his lips took on a shade of ruefulness, the attempt at a light-hearted moment falling flat.

_"Good luck then,"_ Elizabeth said, and if she was still angry with him, the anger couldn't be made out from amid the crackling. There was a faint, echoed, _"Good luck, Doctor, Lieutenant,"_ and Rod knew that Sumner was standing next to Elizabeth in the control room, gravely offering his support.

"We'll contact you as soon as we head back to the surface, let you know if we're going to be needing any of Sheppard's fancy flying today," Laura said, a sort of forced briskness to her voice. "Have Sheppard and the divers on Jumper Eight standing by, just in case." 

_"Of course. Weir out."_ 

There was silence for a moment, one of those silences that made Rod instinctively want to offer up a smile of reassurance and a joke or two to break the ice, but judging by Laura's stony expression, it wouldn't be well-received. He fiddled with the tablet for a moment, frowning at the sporadic life-sign readings. Then again, he supposed it would be odd for the planet's ocean not to contain any life whatsoever. Making a mental note to speak to the biologists and zoologists about the ocean life, he gritted his teeth and tried to bear the oppressive quiet of the jumper.

At last, though, he sighed and said, putting all the conviction he had into the words, "We're going to find him."

"I know," she said, and now it was her turn to avoid his eyes, keeping her gaze firmly on the screen as she took them even deeper. There was another beat of silence, and then she said coolly, apparently still irritated about the 'letting your emotions get the best of you' comment, "Leveling out at nine hundred and ninety feet. Don't you have a cloak to convert into a shield, McKay?"

"Yes," Rod said, and couldn't quite conceal a grimace as the jumper chose that moment to groan under the pressure of the ocean. He quickly got to work as Laura commented, "Better hurry, McKay. Be a pretty lousy rescue if you don't have that shield up and running by the time we find them." This time he endured the silence, submerging himself in his work, and it was only when he made a small sound of satisfaction and looked up to grin at Laura that his neck twinged and he realized how long he'd been huddled over the tablet, furiously working. 

"Figured it out?" Laura asked, and now there was a smile for him, hope obvious in her eyes. The hope quickly changed to a look of relief as Rod initialized the shield and it shimmered into life. "Good job, McKay," she said, and her relief softened the words into something that might have almost been sincerity. "Now we just need to figure out where the hell their jumper got to."

"Yes, we--" Rod stopped, frowning at the tablet and mentally cursing at the information displayed on the screen. "Wait."

"Wait?" Laura echoed, one eyebrow raised. "In case you haven't noticed, we're sort of in a hurry, McKay--"

"The shield's draining our power at an alarmingly fast rate," Rod said, for once not caring that he was being rude and interrupting her. He grimaced. "Which means, thanks to the pressure the ocean's exerting on the jumper, our power is being continuously drained. Once we go deeper, we'll have thirty minutes or so before the power's completely gone." 

Laura's face went pale and still for a moment. Then she shook her head, a determined look chasing away any other emotion from her face, and shrugged. "Well, I guess we're going to be needing some of Sheppard's fancy flying after all," she said, matter-of-fact. "Descending through one thousand."

There was another stretch of silence, and then Laura said in an almost conversational tone, "By the way, McKay, the next time you want to avoid getting stuck in a jumper with me, don't play the 'women are more emotional' card. Both Doctor Weir and I wanted to kick your ass for that one." When he just blinked at her, she offered him another one of her patented shark-like smiles, the ones that never quite reached her eyes, and added almost sweetly, "God knows what Teyla will do to you when she hears about it."

"I didn't mean it offensive--" Rod began, and then sighed and gave up at Laura's skeptical look. "Look, maybe we could just focus on rescuing Radek and Griffin." Despite himself, a hopeful, slightly desperate note crept into his voice, and for the first time today, a mischievous look lightened Laura's features and chased the shadows from her eyes.

"Right. As if I'm going to let you forget about how much you fucked up in Weir's office." She laughed then, her smile actually reaching her eyes, and she reached out to pat him on the shoulder with just enough force to knock his breath from him but not enough to bruise. "Hey, _someone_'s got to chip at that wall of supposed perfection you've built around yourself, McKay. Besides, consider this payback for Carson."

Rod flushed a little at that, Carson's flustered, dismayed look and Perna's shocked, devastated expression all too vivid in his mind. "How was I supposed to know that he'd been seeing Perna?" he found himself protesting. "She hated him ever since he put a stop to the experiments with that drug of theirs. I mean, I once saw her actually dump a glass of juice on his shirt and storm out of the mess hall!"

"Sure, last year," Laura said dryly. This time when her hazel eyes focused on him, he couldn't define the gleam in her eyes, though he suspected it was probably mild exasperation, or amusement, or a jumbled mixture of both. "One of your problems is that you never notice when people _change_, McKay. I mean, sure, I had a crush on Carson, but I'd only been on Atlantis a few weeks. _I_ didn't know he'd been mooning after Perna for nearly a year and had finally convinced her that he was serious. _You_ should have." 

Rod frowned and looked down at the tablet in his hand. Did she really have to harp on that particular mistake? He remembered all too well how long it had taken Carson to forgive him, could recall each word of his frantic conversation with Perna as he tried to convince her that Carson really was loyal rather than a faithless bastard. Sometimes he half-suspected Carson still held a grudge; he _knew_ Perna did, her gaze dark with disapproval every time they met.

When Laura opened her mouth to keep needling him, he said quickly, "I'm having trouble locating the jumper," knowing it was cruel but desperately wanting, _needing_ a different conversation than the one they were having. Rather than relief, though, he felt his stomach twist with guilt as the mischief vanished from Laura's face and was replaced by alarm. "It might be the shields or the depth, there's no way to be certain, but--"

Laura snatched the tablet from him, stared fiercely at it as though she could make the crashed jumper reappear by sheer will. He was silent, watching a muscle jump in her jaw as she stared and stared and continued to stare. Then she frowned and tilted her head. "What's that?" she asked, pointing at something on the tablet's screen.

When he leaned over to see, heart leaping into his throat that perhaps she'd seen something he hadn't, she tapped the screen where one of the life-signs flickered in and out of existence. "Oh," he said, disappointed. "That's not them. It's too big, just some sort of sea creature that--"

"That's circling something," Laura pointed out.

For a moment Rod just stared at her, wondering how he could have missed that and thanking Elizabeth and Sumner and Sheppard for coercing him into taking her along. Then he thought desperately at the jumper, 'We need the H.U.D,' and said aloud, "We've only got twelve minutes left, but maybe--" Though he left the sentence unfinished, the silent, 'But maybe the creature's found something interesting, like a lost jumper' hung in the air.

Laura smiled, hope and despair, fear and happiness, warring for dominance on her face, and if there'd been an engine to rev up and a pedal to stomp, Rod was certain Laura would have had the jumper gunning for the area where the sea creature was circling, the area that began broadcasting a very weak but definite distress signal as they got closer.  


  


  


  
  
  


  


  
*   


  


  
  
  


  


  


The water was up to his chest now. Radek didn't know if it was the possible concussion or the cold, but he swore that he could hear his heartbeat slowing down, feel his life slipping away bit by bit. "I should have tried to use the drive pods," he said aloud, and didn't have to look over to know that Rod was rolling his eyes.

"If you had, it would've failed and you'd be dead."

Radek laughed hoarsely at that, the laugh turning into a cough halfway through. He could taste the despair in the back of his throat even as he gasped for breath; it was similar to the sharp sourness of fear. "And instead I have only fifteen minutes before the jumper's power is gone and I freeze to death. What is the saying? From a frying pan into a fire?" Too cold to even shiver, he forced himself to look over at the hallucination, whose face blurred in and out of focus. He still wasn't certain when or how he'd lost his glasses. He supposed it didn't matter. "It's a pity, you know."

"Radek, you're not going to die," Rod said, just as full of conviction as when he'd first appeared. 

He shook his head and immediately regretted the action, feeling his stomach clench and everything else go muted and distant for a moment. Then Radek blinked hard, grabbing onto the last shreds of the awareness that kept him from unconsciousness, and murmured, "No, no, I mean-- well, yes, I meant that I am going to die, of course I am, though I am sure you will keep pretending I will be rescued until the very end. I mean it is a pity, that no one will know what Griffin did. He, he sacrificed himself and no one will know, no one will go to his family and tell them he died trying to save someone's life." He swallowed, added softly, "My life."

"You can tell the others what he did," Rod said, voice just as soft, and this time Radek didn't bother to correct him. "You just need to stay awake a bit longer, Radek."

Stay awake? Radek wanted to argue, because it would be so very simple, so very _easy_ to just close his eyes and let himself drift off and dream his way into death. It would be the least painful way to die, really, far better than cursing God and Rod McKay with his last breath as the water closed over his head, a death he could picture with terrifying clarity every time the jumper groaned under the pressure of the ocean or the whale-creature moaned outside. He licked his lips, tasting salt, and said hoarsely, "All right." He felt rather than saw Rod swim over to him, their shoulders bumping together in a light collision that nevertheless made Radek's head pound and the pain in his hand flare. He wanted to laugh again, this time at the fact that his subconscious was trying to convince him that someone who wasn't really there was here and alive and God, so _warm_ against his side. Radek couldn't help but lean into the heat, knowing it wasn't real and leaning all the same. "So, McKay, what do you--"

He'd thought he was too cold to even shiver, but apparently he was wrong, a furious bout of shivering closing up his throat and rattling whatever he'd been about to say right out of his head. When the shivering had eased to manageable levels, he swore under his breath.

"_Jezisi_, this is not how I am supposed to die, Rod," he said, and the complaint came out soft and full of melancholy. Beside him, the hallucination was silent, listening as Radek said into the dimly lit compartment, with the same plaintive tone, "I already drowned once, in the original timeline. Is that not enough? I would rather be, rather be--" He faltered there, though, because, despite everything, he'd prefer to drown than die screaming as a Wraith's meal.

He closed his eyes, forced them back open as he felt everything start to go muted and distant once more, and then opened them wider as the jumper trembled beneath him. "What, what was--" Radek turned his head a little, looked into Rod's smiling, triumphant face as the hallucination said, "Your rescue."

A moment later, the same voice said from above him, _"Zelenka, Griffin, do you copy?"_

Radek just stared for a moment, hope and disbelief warring with each other, and then a hoarse, painful laugh wrenched itself from his chest and he activated his headset. "McKay?"

_"Radek!"_ two voices exclaimed as one, and it was only when the second voice continued with a breathless, _"Just to let you know, Radek, this is the last time I let you go on so much as a test flight without me. Now, could you lower your door so we can rescue you?"_ that Radek recognized the voice, and another startled laugh escaped him. 

"Laura, you're-- that would not be a good idea. The compartment is filled with--"

_"With water, yes, we noticed,"_ Rod said, wry amusement clear in his voice, and the hallucination grinned as well. _"But we've converted the cloak into a shield and extended it around your jumper. We're outside the door right now."_ Apparently to prove his point, someone pounded on the door, and Radek quietly swallowed back whatever he'd been about to say in response to that unbelievable piece of news. _"So all you have to do is lower the door and walk to our jumper."_ 

Radek stared at the door. It was really going to be that easy? Just, just lower the door and walk out?

Next to him, the hallucination's grin widened. "I told you they'd think of something," he said, the closest to smug that Rod ever came. Usually that expression would warrant a scowl and dark mutterings about Rod's ego, but Radek couldn't keep from smiling back. God, he was going to actually _live_, breathe fresh air, talk to someone outside of his own subconscious, walk the corridors of Atlantis once more.

Radek struggled to his feet, the compartment blurring and fading to gray, and then he forced the threat of unconsciousness away for one final time and headed towards the door, muscles straining against the water's pressure. He all but drank in the sight of the release mechanism, his undamaged hand physically aching to grab the handle and open the door, so that he could-- So that he could walk into the ocean. He faltered, briefly, because perhaps this _was_ too good to be true, perhaps all that awaited him out there was instant oblivion. Then again, wouldn't the original hallucination be attempting to stop him? It did seem to be from the survival part of his brain. He turned slightly, looked at the hallucination. 

Rod stared back, confusion widening his eyes. "What?" 

After a moment, Radek shook his head and offered him a slight smile. "Nothing. Just seemed too good to be true." He turned back to the release mechanism even as comprehension dawned on Rod's face, and reached out to grasp the mechanism with a hand that trembled from a mixture of the cold and apprehension.

He took a deep breath, thought of Laura waiting for him, how she was probably smiling one of her huge, brilliant grins, the kind that lit up her eyes and made her all the more beautiful, thought of Rod waiting expectantly for him to open the door. Then he let the breath out and said calmly, "You had better stand back, Rod. We have taken on a lot of water." He didn't look back to see if the hallucination was still watching, instead reached out and pulled down the release mechanism. 

It took a moment to realize nothing had happened. It was only when Rod called, _"Radek? We're running low on power, so we need you to lower the door sooner rather than later,"_ that the realization slammed into Radek like a blow to the chest, and suddenly Radek couldn't breathe, could only stare at the release mechanism and gasp in panicked disbelief. 

"I, I--"

The hallucination was there, a steady hand on Radek's shoulder and an urgent reminder in his ear. "Secondary release, Radek." 

Radek just looked at him, panic choking him for a moment even after the words clicked in his head, and then he half-dove, half-threw himself underwater, struggling to ignore the way his entire body screamed at the cold and the pain in his injured hand spiked. He could hear the sound of Rod (the real one or perhaps the hallucination, Radek couldn't tell the difference anymore) still speaking above him, the words undecipherable. Making his way to the bench, he struggled to open it up with numb, clumsy fingers, cursed at how difficult it was to do one-handed, yanked desperately at the handle within. And then it was all roaring water and suction, dragging Radek down to the floor of the compartment, his breath escaping him in one pained exhale as he slammed into the floor. He just lay there for a moment, breathless, and then took in a quick, half-disbelieving breath. It was air though, not water, just air, and Radek wanted to laugh and perhaps weep with relief even as he began to cough. 

"Radek!" He closed his eyes at Laura's soft touch as one hand cupped the back of his neck, the other brushing soaked strands of hair away from his face. Her voice, sharp with concern and husky from relief, was nevertheless warm and soothing, chasing away some of the weight that had been pressing down on his shoulders since the jumper had first began to shudder as she asked, "Are you all right?" 

"I will be," he murmured, once he'd taken a few careful breaths, and then opened his eyes to smile at her. She smiled back. It was the same brilliant curve of her lips that he'd imagined, and there was a sudden lump in his throat and tightness to his chest that had nothing to do with panic or fear.

"Where's Griffin?" Rod asked.

Radek could feel the smile die on his lips, watched Laura's smile dim as well, anxiety darkening her eyes as she waited for his answer. The weight of grief and responsibility returned to his shoulders, but he forced himself to lift a hand and point towards the front compartment. "There," he said, and for a moment didn't recognize the hoarse, broken voice as his own. "He saved me," he added, because he had to, the words wrenching themselves from his throat. 

Laura's fingers dug into the back of his neck and then relaxed as she whispered, "Let's get you home, okay?" 

He closed his eyes as Rod and Laura helped him upright, their arms wrapping around his shoulders, and it was all he could do not to just let his knees buckle at the sensation of two warm, real bodies pressed against his own, chasing away the cold and shivering that wanted to rattle his frame. The smell of Rod's damp leather jacket reached his nose, and Radek couldn't help but think it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever experienced. He kept his eyes shut, echoed, "Okay." Then he forced them open. "Wait, I need to decompress. He told me--"

"Griffin?" Rod said, gently.

Radek stared for a moment before he realized what Rod meant. "No, I did," he said at last, and then winced as the headache flared to unbearable levels, muddling his thoughts. "I-- my head. I hit it, and--"

"Right," Rod said in the same gentle tone, and Radek felt himself start to tense, already missing the hallucination version of Rod, who hadn't been half so condescending. Then he forced himself to relax, because _this_ was Rod. Condescending, overly helpful, but definitely Rod McKay and not a figment of his imagination. "Concussion?"

Radek barked out a laugh, and then winced as his lungs protested. "Probably. And no doubt a broken hand." He leaned into Rod and Laura's grasps, forcing himself to move forward onto the ocean floor and towards the other jumper. (Though to be brutally honest, they were mostly carrying him, his legs too weak to do anything more than attempt the motions of walking.) The walk over to the other jumper felt as though it took hours rather than minutes, but then it was over and they were inside, the warmth of the jumper pressing against Radek from all sides like a heated blanket.

Rod maneuvered him gently to the nearest bench, easing him onto the seat as his knees buckled and the realization that he was safe made his head swim and eyes blur with unshed tears. Radek could feel relief begin to ease the tension from his shoulders, untangle the knots that twisted his stomach. The tension continued to ebb as Laura took his undamaged hand, sparing a quick, concerned glance for the one he'd used to pound the doors to the front compartment and punch the hallucination.

There was another brilliant smile on her lips as she kissed his knuckles with a tenderness she usually reserved for more private moments, and when she spoke, her voice was soft. "We're low on power, and I have to get us up as close to the surface as possible," Laura explained, looking into Radek's eyes and ignoring Rod completely, and squeezed his hand before she hurried to the pilot's seat.

He watched her for a moment, Rod still holding him steady, as though not quite convinced Radek wouldn't slump over as soon as he let go. Radek couldn't force himself to protest against the gesture, just as he couldn't help but glance back towards his jumper. The other Rod leaned against the open door, grinning at him, and Radek smiled back. The smile widened as Rod lifted a hand in farewell, the gesture focused on him at first and then ending in a wave towards the giant whale-creature that circled overhead. 

Radek followed his gaze, eyes widening at the whale-creature's size. "_Jezisi_. He really could have had my jumper for a meal." 

"He's the reason we found you," Rod said. When Radek glanced at him, he was smiling up towards the creature, his expression almost fond. "He was circling your jumper."

"Ah, yes, the transmitter," Radek said, and then watched the door begin to shut, closing on the hallucination's pleased smile. He closed his eyes, felt Rod shift next to him, hand tightening on his shoulder as tremors shook his frame again. "I s-suppose I owe him then. And y-you and Laura as well, of course." He clenched his jaw, willing the shivering to subside.

"You don't owe me anything," Rod informed him firmly, and then laughed, surprise mingling with amusement, as Radek asked in a dry tone, "Not even a new jacket?"

"He probably has a few dozen of the damn things," Laura commented, and Rod laughed again. 

"This is my only one, actually, and it'll be fine."

It was then that Laura's earlier words finally sunk in, and Radek frowned, turning to meet Rod's gaze. "You are running low on power?"

Those blue eyes flickered with an emotion Radek couldn't put a name to, and then Rod smiled easily, radiating reassurance and confidence, the epitome of Rod "I Can Handle It" McKay. "Don't worry about it. We've got it covered." His smile didn't waver at Radek's snort of disbelief, but his gaze did flicker up towards the front of the compartment, snapping back towards Radek when Radek said, "Go, do what you need to keep us from needing rescue ourselves. I will be fine." 

"Cadman can handle--" 

"I will be fine," Radek insisted, and felt a dizzying sense of déjà vu. Hadn't he insisted to Rod that he would be fine only a few short hours ago? Look where _that_ protest had gotten him. Despite the nausea roiling his stomach, he lifted his unbroken hand, waved it towards the front. "Go. Try and conserve whatever power you can. There is not much you can do for me anyway, unless you have a, a secret recompression chamber on the jumper." He attempted a smile, but it felt odd and crooked on his face without a hint of disdain in the gesture. "I promise not to collapse as soon as your back is turned." 

Rod just looked at him for a moment, frowning, and then said, "There isn't much I can do either, Radek. I've shut down all non-vital systems and--" He paused, frown turning rueful as Radek pointed up at the lights illuminating the compartment. "Are you sure? I didn't think you'd want--" He paused, probably trying to figure out a way to word the sentence better, and Radek interjected, "I am not afraid of the dark, Rod."

"Of course you aren't," Rod said automatically, and then his frown deepened. "Fine, if you're sure, I'll go--" And then he eased Radek back a little so that he was resting his back against the wall of the compartment, and was gone, scurrying up to the front to bend over Laura's shoulder and mutter in her ear. A moment later, the lights went out, save for the dim glow of the H.U.D.

Radek closed his eyes, the murmured conversation washing over him. His head still pounded, and his hands and feet were beginning to get that pins-and-needles sensation as the warm compartment brought back some of the circulation, his injured hand one throbbing spot of agony, but he ignored all that for the moment, setting those concerns aside to be mentioned once they got within radio range of Atlantis, where he could give Simon a list of his symptoms and injuries.

"You all right back there?" Laura called.

Radek waved at her without opening his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and let himself slide into that state of half-consciousness, where everything was distant but there, the discomfort dulled but his mind still awake. It was in this hazy, calm state that he thought of teetering on the edge of that cliff so many years ago, of looking out of the jumper's windshield and seeing an endless stretch of ocean, and felt relief and something akin to gratitude well up in his chest that there had been others to snatch him from the water's deadly grip both times.

He kept his eyes closed, and waited to see the sky.

*

"What do you mean Radek's not here?" Rod said. He fought back the frown that wanted to twist his lips, assumed an inoffensive look of confusion instead. "Simon said he wasn't going to be released until later today." 

"His vitals were stable enough that Simon let him out early," Carson said, a trace of impatience in his voice. "Which means I have no clue where he is, Rod. So if you could let me get back to my work, I'd be grateful." He waved a hand at the microscope, and Rod looked apologetic. He really should have asked a nurse upon seeing Radek's empty cot, but he'd seen Carson ducking into his lab and followed him inside instead.

"Right. I'll check his quarters then." Rod offered him another apologetic look, knowing that the IOA and SGC had been hounding Carson for the past few months about something that made the other man tense and irritable, something that had both Elizabeth and Sumner up in arms as well. Rod was still waiting to be let in on the secret. "Sorry."

He'd made it almost to the door of the lab when Carson said, "I'd check the jumper bay, myself. The poor man's been fretting away about what went wrong with his jumper." When Rod turned to stare, Carson raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know? Miko brought him his laptop after the second day, and he's been poring over his original diagnostic ever since."

"I," Rod said, and stopped. He hadn't known about Kusanagi sneaking Radek his laptop (especially since Rod had specifically asked her not to), but he _had_ suspected Radek would blame himself. Radek had been the one to clear Jumper Six for a test-flight, after all, was the man for whom Griffin had sacrificed himself. It was why Rod had quietly assigned Kusanagi and Kavanagh to the task of figuring out what had gone wrong. Both scientists were smart and resourceful, and more importantly, not prone to gossip. He'd hoped to keep the results quiet, compose a kinder version to give to Radek.

"Thank you," he said instead, and headed to the jumper bay.

Sure enough, Radek was there, listening intently to Kavanagh as he pointed out some of the damage done to the jumper and wearing a rumpled blue shirt and pants that looked like he'd grabbed out of his laundry. Knowing Radek, he probably _had_ gone to his quarters and grabbed the first article of clothing he could find before he'd hurried over to the jumper bay, muttering curses when his cast gave him trouble.

Rod just looked at them for a moment, mentally sighing. Elizabeth had already agreed with him that Radek would need to be cleared by Heightmeyer before he could work on anything, much less work on the jumper he'd almost drowned in. "Kavanagh." When Kavanagh looked up, startled, Rod smiled warmly and waved a hand towards the door. "You've been working since the crack of dawn, no doubt. Go get some lunch."

Kavanagh blinked, gaze flickering between Radek and Rod for a moment, and then he nodded.

Radek's intent expression was replaced by a mulish look, and he started to fold his arms against his chest before he remembered the cast, wincing and waiting until the doors had slid shut behind Kavanagh to speak. "I am not leaving, McKay."

"Radek, I assigned Kavanagh and Kusanagi to the jump--"

"Stop," Radek said, quiet and firm, and Rod blinked. 

"Stop?"

"Stop," Radek said again, and this time he smiled. It was an odd, unfamiliar look on his face. Rod was used to Radek looking scornful, used to him muttering darkly under his breath about Rod's ancestors, used to him bitterly objecting to everything Rod said. He wasn't used to Radek smiling at him, expression free of any resentment or frustration. When Radek continued, his voice was calm. "I understand why you did this, Rod, but it is not necessary. I am a grown man. I must face my mistakes. There is no need to, to rearrange things on my behalf."

Rod just stared for a moment, at an utter loss for words. How was he supposed to respond to that? This wasn't in the script, this was a brand-new territory that Rod felt certain had a hidden mine or two just waiting for him to set off. At last, he said, attempting to hide his awkwardness with a cheerful tone, "If you understand why I did this, you must understand why Heightmeyer and I have agreed you can't go back to work yet."

Something flickered in Radek's eyes then, but his expression didn't change, his tone just as serene as before when he said, "_Pitomec_."

"I'm sorry?"

Radek snorted. "Do not pretend you do not know what _pitomec_ means, McKay."

"Yes, well," Rod said, conceding the point. "I know you don't hold me in the highest regard, but I don't think calling me an idiot is really conducive to convincing me to let you work on the jumper."

Radek just looked at him. "You do not have to coddle me, Rod. I will not like you any less if you argue with me, lose your temper from time to time, tell me to get the hell back to my quarters where I am supposed to be." He paused, and made a soft sound in the back of his throat, something that sounded like a chuckle. "In fact, I would probably like you better. I cannot trust a man who is always so pleasant. He is hiding something. No one can be so kind, so nice all the time."

When Rod just stared at him, Radek made the same soft sound in the back of his throat and shook his head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "_Jezisi_, this was easier when you were a hallucination," and okay, Rod was definitely going to have to stress the importance of seeing Heightmeyer. Then Radek extended a hand and said, sincerity coloring the words, "Thank you." When Rod kept staring, he wiggled his fingers and added, "For rescuing me from a very unpleasant death?"

"Uh, right," Rod said, and took Radek's hand. "You're, uh, welcome."

There was a momentary pause, and then-- "Now, about the jumper," Radek said, and actually laughed when Rod sighed. "Look, McKay, at least let me write up a report of what went wrong with the jumper just before the crash. It is the least I can do." 

"The least you could do would be to get the hell back to your quarters, Radek." Rod had meant it as a joke, interjecting a mock-growl to the sentence, and blinked as a look of approval crossed Radek's face. It made him fumble for words again, a reluctant, "And write that report. It'll probably help Kavanagh and Kusanagi," escaping his lips. Heightmeyer would probably be furious with him for giving in, but maybe figuring out _why_ Griffin had died was Radek's way of moving past his death.

"Thank you," Radek said again, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled, and this time Rod smiled back. 

**Translation:**

_Mnoho štěsti_ – Good luck  
_Ne_ – No  
_Jezisi_ – Jesus  
_Prosím_ – Please  
_Pitomec_ – Idiot/Jackass  



End file.
